


Beauty of Ruin

by Mizuni_sama



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Because he's a very scary man, Borderline incest, Everyone has all their limbs, Except Vader keeps one cybernetic hand, Extremely Dubious Consent, Luke is a Voyeur, Mara is a Masochist, Multi, Star Wars AU, Suitless Vader, Threesome, Vader is a Sadist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 22:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11999544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizuni_sama/pseuds/Mizuni_sama
Summary: Star Wars AU.  Luke and Vader have transcended in the Force, restoring their bodies and shedding their titles as Jedi and Sith, to become Emperors.  A year into their established rule, Vader demonstrates to his son's lover exactly where her position in their Imperial household she falls.





	Beauty of Ruin

He had never slept well after Mustafar, and after he had been healed he had little desire for sleep. His dreams are always prophetic now. Usually, they were even understandable, making sleep as perfunctory as yet another intelligence report on some newly erupting crisis somewhere in the galaxy. So most nights, during those brief hours he demands his privacy and seclusion, he meditates or he visits Luke. 

Luke, in contrast, loves to sleep. His son rarely dreams prophetic, for which he is grateful, but instead slips into the Living Force, experiencing the lives and deaths of billions of alien life forms through their alien senses. He has glimpsed these dreams in his son’s mind but shies away from examining them too closely, like a man who cannot swim standing at the edge of a beautiful but turbulent sea. He knows these dreams of Luke would drive any other creature in existence to madness. 

Knows too that they insure his son is never truly vulnerable, no matter the peace and innocence he exudes in repose. 

Tonight, he can sense his son adrift in his dream sea and knows he should be there for many more hours to come. His son’s days are as long as his own and physically more demanding. The boy is still learning to pace himself. Still, he desires to see him and be in that radiant presence if only for a short while. So he crosses the bridge that connects the two towers of their palace, the impossibly frail-looking construction of rare Oridium, that dances from side to side in the wind but never breaks. It is not a practical route for anyone not sufficiently trained in the force to steady the bridge and even then, it took nerve to walk that slender strip of ground over a chasm of uninterrupted fall. Luke jokingly calls it ‘Walking the Line’. Vader, less than jokingly, thought of it as ‘Crossing the Line’. There were consequences no matter which way you crossed from. 

The Red Guard stand at attention and salute as he takes his first steps onto the Tower of Light. On this side, their masks cover only the bottom half of their faces and their eyes regard him with a wary savagery he approves of. The half-masks would not have the same effect of menace amongst the common stormtroopers, but for those of genuinely ferocious disposition they are more than effective. It is a small compromise to make to Luke’s distaste for uniformed anonymity. For they are his son’s guards, no longer his creatures after a scant few months in the Light Tower. For all their distrust, they do not impede him. Nor do the guards in the halls or those outside Luke’s quarters. It is not their master’s will that his father should ever be denied entry. 

Luke’s quarters are dimmed, the windows shaded against Corsucant’s ever dizzying glitter and whirl of lights. There is the sound of water running over stones somewhere and the soft croon of Xercani finches. The finches are extinct in the wild, their home planet an ecological disaster from one of Palpatine’s ‘pet projects’. These creatures are clones, gifted by a misguided Imperial sycophant seeking favor from a busy and temperamental Emperor through his seemingly more naive and agreeable son. The fool was currently on Xercani that moment, heading a clean-up project that would likely take fifty years before completion. The Xercani, nearly destitute though they are, send his son gifts of ivory gaming boards and ancient tea sets. Sometimes he sits with his son and shows him how to play and runs his unscarred and sensitive fingertips along the rim of the tea cups, taking in the rough-smooth-sandy-silky texture of the porcelain unique to that planet. 

One of their games still waits for their continuance on the edge of a low table, and he contemplates the pieces for a moment before continuing on to the bedroom. His son sleeps, as he knew he would, on his side with his naked body pressed to the back of his equally naked paramour. Luke doesn't wake, but Vader knows that the other is aware of him, can feel his force signature caressing his own, churning the darkness there with possessiveness and hunger. It's not sexual, not precisely, but it is an intimacy a human father should not have for its child. Perhaps what no human should desire of another. 

Mara regards him with narrowed, distrustful eyes, not bothering to feign sleep. She can sense his hunger and its direction, and it sparks her own greed and anxiety for the man curled around her. She presses back more firmly into Luke, her force signature flaring with aggression. Her audacity is criminal. Does she not recall that she shares Luke's bed at his behest, however welcoming his son had made her there since? Does she believe herself so indispensable as to challenge him? His plans for meditation are quickly abandoned. Her presence would make the exercise futile. He could order her from the room, could order her punished for her insolence, could simply crush her utterly. And he would, if such acts didn't imply he viewed her as any sort of threat. 

Besides which, Luke is fond her. Certainly, she has proven a far better companion than the other courtesans of the palace and her force sensitivity is a boon. Her beauty, while secondary, is unquestionable. Red hair, strong and slender build, and soft pale skin that turn faintly rosy at the elbows and knees. The children she bore his son would be beautiful and strong without question. 

But she was not irreplaceable, and he would need to remind her of that fact before he was forced to kill her. 

"Get up." 

She hesitates, her aggressive force presence flinching from his, realizing at last her error. She sits up and looks down deferentially, but she knows it is already too late. Her challenge, however slight, is being answered. He stalks from the room, and she must follow. She looks back at Luke, still asleep and too beautiful for words, and gently removes his hands from around her, kissing each as she does. She thinks she sees him smile ever so slightly, but she can't be sure in the darkness of the room. Reluctantly, she slips from the bed. Her clothes are... everywhere at the moment, and she doesn't have time to assemble and dress. She is not embarrassed precisely, Palpatine had trained that out of her well before Emperor Vader, but the stickiness between her thighs makes her deeply aware of the carnality of this situation. Even if he does nothing more than warn her, the potential for something more lingers. 

When she enters the living room and finds he has moved the low table to clear a space on the floor, she knows that potential is playing itself out. Indignation and arousal swell inside her, settling heavily in her abdomen and sending her heart racing. He does not acknowledge her until after he's removed his cloak and draped it over a nearby chair. In the brief moment she has to study him, she realizes he is just as beautiful as his son, but in an entirely different way. Luke's beauty was such you feared to touch it less you ruin it. Vader's beauty you feared to touch less it ruin you. He is tempting, but she belongs to Luke now and this little scene between them right outside his bedroom door was an unforgivable betrayal on Vader's end. 

He turned to her, and she could see his eyes had turned yellow. He gestured to the space on the floor. 

"Get on your hands and knees, facing that way." 

She obeys, her expression falling into ill-disguised anger and fear. Betrayal or not, he is still the Emperor Superior. He kneels behind her, and she can hear him unfastening his belt. She doesn't realize she's shaking until she feels his cold hand settle on her hip. A moment later, she feels the Force shoving her face down into the carpet and he's shoving inside her. She is still slick from her own arousal and his son’s seed still coating her womb. He shudders at the thought of sharing her like this with Luke, his progeny, and creating a child of whom neither knew nor cared if they would be child or grandchild or sibling. Perhaps there would be twins, and it would be both. It is both perverse and strangely beautiful to think about, children created to fill undefined roles in undefined ways. But the fantasy is brief, and he pulls out of her almost immediately. Mara protests and tries to push herself up, but he holds her with the force by her shoulders with more power than can be comfortable. This isn’t about her pleasure, nor his pleasure really although he intends to enjoy himself. This is to remind her that she might be Luke’s paramour, but it is Vader who holds power over her and her role is whatever he defines it as. 

Be it the mother to the heir of the empire or his whore. 

Or both. 

Still slick with her cum, he lines himself up with her puckered hole and slides himself inside. She shrieks in surprise and perhaps more than a little pain, and struggles frantically but uselessly beneath him. He doesn’t move. She claws and writhes and twists, but cannot pull free of the force hold. Her humiliation and anger washes over him, as arousing and sensual as her heat around his prick. 

“He won’t let you get away with this,” she hisses when it becomes apparent she had no power here. 

He chuckles at her naivete. 

“Do you honestly think he would raise a hand against me? Over _you_? Do you not recall it was I who sent you to rape him? However much pleasure you may have granted him and as fond of you as he may genuinely be, this little liaison is hardly enough to convince him to raise his hand against me. If anything, he would be aroused.” 

“You’re wrong. He’s not a depraved bastard like-“ 

“Us?” he reminds her mockingly, then laughs. “You’re right of course. He’s nothing like either of us, but then… he’s not like anyone else either. Do you know what he would do in truth, Mara, if he were here right now?” 

She remains silent, confused and uncertain now as well as angry. She honestly can’t imagine what Luke would do. When she had seduced him, perhaps even as Vader implied, raped him, he had responded to her in such strangely gentle and loving ways. She was convinced by the time they were done that he was in love with her, but perhaps it was the other way around. Perhaps she was in love with him. Perhaps Vader is going to show her the arrogance of her initial assumption. 

He jerks her upright, one arm wrapping around her chest and a hand gripping her hair mercilessly. He has her facing Luke's bedroom door, mocking her with the closeness of her supposed savior. 

“If he were here right now,” Vader continues when it becomes apparent she won’t even attempt an answer. “He would be making love to you and that little cunt of yours… even as I sodomized you from behind.” 

And then he starts to thrust. She cries out at his suddenly fierce movement inside her and the sudden image he thrust into her mind. Luke in front of her, his mouth suckling her breast, his prick undulating slowly, gently inside her while from behind his father pounds into her ass ruthlessly, relentlessly, his cold cybernetic hand clenched around her other breast. She cries out, surprised by the surge of pleasure and arousal amidst the pain. 

“No! Stop it!” she demands. In her mind, Luke looks up at her as if surprised by her protests, his blue eyes guileless. She has to stop herself from saying out loud ‘not you!’ but Vader seems to hear her nonetheless and lets out a huff of amusement. He pulls out of her and drops her to the floor, stunning her. He's still erect and far from satisfied, but again this wasn't for his pleasure. She had to understand she has no power over him, not even through lust. He moves towards Luke's room. Mara, sprawled on the floor, gives him a panicked look. 

"What are you doing?" 

"I did not come here for _your_ company, girl." 

"But he's asleep!" she protests, and he can read her twisted but not illogical assumption about what he intends to do. Truthfully, he simply intends to meditate. Luke's dream sea is awash with as much violence and depravity as it is joy and love, and if he is careful he can glean these energies for meditative purposes. Proximity is helpful. 

"A rather hypocritical protest, I would remind you," he says in dark amusement. 

"That's... not the same. He could have stopped me at any time." 

"And do you think he could not stop me? You are a fool," he says, but pauses a moment to consider. He will see his son, but he's not opposed to this little diversion. Mara is whirling in dark energies; the light Luke had been fostering so carefully is all but smothered. Luke would be annoyed with him for undoing so much of his work, but... 

"If, however, you are truly opposed, then I am willing to let you resolve the matter yourself." 

Let it not be said Mara is a complete fool. She understands him instantly, and she doesn't flinch, merely scowls and nods. He steps away from the door and takes a seat in a chair, legs spread. She stands, and he can see her knees are now red against the whiteness of her naked legs and she's all the more attractive for it. She straddles him, a hand on his shoulder to steady her and the other reaching between them to line him up with her cunt. He slaps her buttocks sharply, startling her. 

"Not there. We wouldn't want any _accidents_." 

She grimaces and realigns him, and presses her body down. It's not any more comfortable than the first time, but he is letting her set the pace and she tries for as hard and fast as she can make herself go. He leans back in his chair and... he doesn't relax precisely, but he lets himself ease. His iron grip on the force loosens and he lets it swell, curl hungrily around him, around her. She gasps and shakes as she feels it pressing into her, driving her to an even more punishing pace; anger and frustration and greed swelling inside her. Yes, greed. He knows she envies him. She has every reason to. He has all the strength and power anyone could ever want. He has Luke, absolute and unquestioned. But greed for him? That surprises him. 

That pleases him. 

It occurs to him that there was no way Luke had not known. 

The sudden insight has him instinctively looking over his shoulder towards Luke's room. He is not the least surprised to see his son standing in the doorway. He is naked and sleep ruffled, regarding the scene with patient indulgence. Vader glares at him realizing he's been tricked or at least maneuvered very expertly. Luke just grins at him, glancing to the nearby table where their gaming board rests. Cheeky. 

He turns back to Mara, who remains oblivious to Luke's brightness from inside her burning cocoon of darkside energy, riding him with savage determination. He seizes her by the hips and suddenly thrusts up to meet her, making her shriek and dig her fingernails into his clothed shoulder. The force pulses in hungrily, gathering more densely around her, and Vader feels the impulse to crush her with it, the same impulse that had killed more than few incompetent Imperial officers. 

_No, Father_. His son whispers through their connection, just the softest brush of warmth, there and then gone. 

Enough that he resists the lethal urge. Not enough that he doesn't overindulge a bit. He moves one hand from her hip to place it over her abdomen and pushes inside her. The other moves up her side, the faintest touch of force lightning crackling against her skin as he goes. She screams. Pain, terror, and ecstasy shaking her to pieces. She convulses in what may or may not be an orgasm, then collapses on atop him. 

He is not satisfied yet, however, continuing to pound into her with both his dick and the force, feeling her ecstasy draining away to just pain and fear. He could keep going like this for a very long time, they both knew, and she wouldn't necessarily survive it and certainly wouldn't walk away unscathed. She had taken on far more than she could handle and he had every intention of making sure she never forgot it. She starts to cry but doesn't dare tell him to stop. She must have understood that would only make things worse for her. 

But then suddenly she tenses, and he knows she's finally seen Luke. What's more his son is approaching them, his Light pushing against the Dark with every step he takes, until finally both energies give way to each other, twisting into a swirl that can hurt neither of them. Defiantly, Vader doesn't slow his thrusts into Mara's limp body even as Luke comes to hover over them. Not even when Luke kisses Mara's mouth, swallowing her pained moan. 

Not until Luke leans down and kisses his forehead, a spear of light thrusting through his temple and all the way down his body to his cock. He comes inside her then, pleasure in her suffering and pleasure in Luke's loving acceptance, leaves him truly relaxed and satisfied. The darkness recoils inside of him, still greedy for more, but satiated enough to be caged for the time being. He lets her go. 

Predictably, she falls. Predictably, Luke catches her. He settles the both of them onto the nearby couch, Mara's head in his lap. He wastes no time setting about healing the damage Vader has inflicted. The damage he had let Vader inflict. He focuses firstly on the burned bruises of the force lightning along her side. 

"You intended this," Vader accuses without rancor. It would be more than a little hypocritical for him to take offense, but it did surprise him a little Luke would plan it. 

"I knew of its eventuality," Luke said. "Didn't you?" 

"My dreams are prophetic, but they don't concern themselves with... minor details such as this." 

Their conversation stops there for the moment as he becomes aware of an uncomfortable stickiness, and retires to the refresher for the moment to clean himself off. In the full light of the refresher, he finds the stickiness is partly his own semen and partly Mara's blood. The Darkside practically purrs around him, and he feels some of his irritation ebb. When he steps back out to the sitting room, he finds Luke has moved on from the lightning bruises to the source of the blood. One of his hands rests atop her abdomen, and the other is buried between her legs and sets the exhausted woman squirming. 

"When did you realize?" he asks as he comes to sit at the other end of the sofa, ignoring Mara for the moment. 

"I never thought it could have been otherwise. You would give me anything and everything, but you demand the same in return. This isn't any different. It can't be. Balance can't be maintained while one covets what the other has." 

"I do not covet her." 

"You covet what she is for me. What she gives me. The child she will give me. Us." 

Luke's hand threads gently through her brilliant red hair, brushes her cheek affectionately. She stares back up at him helplessly, her mouth fallen open, her legs squeezing around the hand pressed between them. Vader regards her coolly, but doesn't deny it. Mara herself is nothing to him, one of the easily replaceable but still required components of their Imperial Household. But she's a comfortable fit, and one perhaps the Force had a hand in providing them. Luke might even love her, but then he loved everyone to some extent or another. 

"If I don't kill her first, you mean." 

"You're not that careless." 

"I'm that jealous." 

Because even as far as he has risen, he is still a flawed creature. 

"Not of her," Luke says knowingly, just as she twisted her head in his lap and took his flaccid cock in her mouth. He closes his eyes in pleasure and breathed, "You don't want me the same way she does." 

Which was true, even if to the outside observer, Mara herself for example, it appeared he did. What he wants is unconditional love, the kind that meant they could never cause the other shame or fear or anger. He did not lust for his son or vice versa, but they were perfectly comfortable with their sexuality around one another. Sexuality, which honestly was almost non-existence unless they made an effort to actually think about it. Vader has to give Mara credit there. She certainly makes them both think about it quite seriously. 

"Girl," he says, causing Mara to pause with Luke's cock still buried down her throat. "You haven't the right to be wasting the prince's seed. Have you forgotten your purpose?" 

"Father-" Luke protests, the first hint of embarrassment, which could rear it's head at the oddest of times. 

"If you makes things difficult for her, my Son, so will I." 

Luke sighs at that and gently pulls Mara off of him, helping her sit up. He kisses her again, sweetly. 

"We'd best do as he says. Are you up for it? I'll let you choose the position." 

There's a touch of uncertainty, followed by a spark of that greed that had so intrigued Vader earlier. She turns a cautious, calculating look at the man who had used her so callously before. There's fear of course, even a touch of embarrassment, but very plainly there is the greed. Luke huffs a laugh in her ear. 

"If you want to, you can. I'll make sure he doesn't over do it." 

Vader gives him a questioning look. Luke has always been better at reading the intentions of people right in front of him. 

"Would you mind leaning back against the armrest?" his son asks him as he shifts positions with Mara so that she is kneeling on the cushions between them. Vader makes sure that his surprise is very thoroughly buried, but he knows Luke has caught it. His widening grin is proof enough. Instead, he directs his response to Mara. 

"You are a glutton for punishment, girl." 

But he does as asked and leans back against the sofa arm, props one leg on the sofa itself, and untucks himself from his pants for the second time that night. He's flaccid, having been satisfied only a few minutes before, but fortunately not still hypersensitive as she kneels down and takes the head of his prick into her mouth. Her buttocks are thrust in the air towards Luke, who kisses the small of her back affectionately. 

"I know I said you could choose, but you'll never be able to keep up that position," Luke says. "Why don't you try lying on your side?"   
Reluctantly, still suckling leisurely, she repositions so her back is facing the room, her right leg stretched out under Luke, and her left leg bent over his thigh. He slides into her leisurely, making her twitch, and sets out a leisurely pace. Vader does nothing to hinder or assist their progress, except perhaps to fondle Mara's breast because... it was just _there_. His cock is slow to harden so soon after the first time, and he doesn't bother calling on the Dark side this round. Luke is taking his time now, so he would as well. The girl was going to find out soon enough that she had taken on more than she could handle again. 

Luke caresses and kisses her wherever he can reach. Her legs and arms, her stomach, her breast (which Vader accommodates by removing his hand for the moment), and likely would have her mouth if it weren't currently occupied. He makes love to the unworthy creature, wraps her in the Light, easing back the Darkside energy. It vaguely annoys Vader that Luke would spoil her so thoroughly, but he knows it is also the best way to insure she conceives. Doesn't mean he has to like it. 

He takes her by the hair, not as harshly as before, but still firmly and thrust shallowly. She makes a startled, indignant sound. 

"You asked for it, girl," he reminds her, taking another shallow thrust. This time Mara just barely manages to swallow him in time. He glances at Luke, who gives him a warning look but doesn't tell him to stop. He thrust again. Mara moaned deeply, practically purring around his cock. He's very tempted to violate her again, but controls himself. This was the future mother of his grandchild. He couldn't afford to destroy her utterly, however tempting. 

Luke's thrusting speeds up, knowing perhaps that Mara could not indulge for as long as either of them could at this pace. With a steady, quick rhythm he rolls his hips in and out of her, taking her womb from every possible angle. The sounds of their heavy breathing and Mara's suckling mingles with a wet smacking sound of skin against skin. Then Luke starts to finger her, and the sounds vibrating around Vader's cock suddenly get a whole lot more interesting. 

When she orgasms, she forces herself as far down Vader's cock as she can manage and swallows hard. Vader doesn't come again, which would have been dry and unpleasant, but he rewards her attempts by letting her pull off him which is generous in his opinion. Luke comes shortly after, pushed over no doubt by what he feels of her pleasure. There's a brief pause as the young pair comes down from their orgasm, which Vader indulges, as he wills his own arousal to ebb away. 

"I think that did it," Luke says finally, a little breathless and grinning at his father. "I think it will take now." 

It takes Vader a moment to realize what his son means. It takes him another moment to realize how stupid he has been. 

"Of course," he mutters, "She couldn't have gotten pregnant unless we were both here." 

"The Force demands balance from us, even in this. _Especially_ in this."   
"Hm?" Mara lifts her head from his thigh to look blearily at both of them. "I'm pregnant?"   
"I think so," Luke says, looking at her with such happiness and pride. "You did so well. No one but you could have done it, accepted the pain and the love both."   
She lifts herself up, perhaps so she can crawl into his son's open arms, but Vader claims her first, taking her head in his hands and kissing her savagely. He does not believe she is the only one, as his son says, who could have done this, but she is the first. She belongs to them both now, utterly and complete, carrier of their flesh and blood. Family. 

She trembles even as she yields. What they had done up until now ultimately meant nothing to their relationship, a mere extension of the dominance and submission that had always defined it. Less a matter of lust and more a matter of power. But this kiss, cruelly biting at her lips and caressing her tongue with his own, is something else entirely. It speaks of an intimacy she had not expected and had not sought. He scares her. 

But then Luke is there, pressing closer so that rather than pull her away from his father, she is pushed closer until she is cocooned between them. She feels their hands on her belly, one warm and one cold, caress her briefly, before intertwining and resting over her womb. She feels... love. The love between these two men, sacred and profound, the love for the child to come, and yes, even love for her. Tender, possessive, grateful, demanding love. 

She begins to cry, overwhelmed with both happiness and terror. To be touched by such beauty, by such purity of Darkness and Light, could only lead to ruin.


End file.
